


i'm running in circles, like a track on repeat, ('til i can feel myself complete)

by stifledlaughter



Category: Kuroko no Basuke | Kuroko's Basketball
Genre: Body Image, Character Study, Friendship, Gen, Introspection
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-02
Updated: 2019-09-02
Packaged: 2020-10-05 05:37:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,078
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20483747
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stifledlaughter/pseuds/stifledlaughter
Summary: Kuroko's always felt at odds with his body, like it couldn't match up to his ambitions. But if he was going to win, he had to learn to treat himself better, and learn to work with - not against - his body.(Character study on being an athlete when you don't (or supposedly don't) have the body for the sport you love.)





	i'm running in circles, like a track on repeat, ('til i can feel myself complete)

**Author's Note:**

> *walks into a fandom 3 years late with Starbucks and a character study* What's up, folks, I'm here to work out my chronic illness issues via sports anime characters. Come along for the ride. 
> 
> Basically I went through almost this exact pattern with my own body and my chronic illness, especially re: athletic pursuits and being able to keep up with others, and I really related to Kuroko pushing super hard and staying late to practice. I basically projected my issues on him and here we have it. (After all is this not one of the purposes of fanfic?)
> 
> TW: Body Image thoughts/internal negativity (has happy ending). Most of the times this tag applies to weight and that doesn't come up here, but I feel any discussion of frustration with your body/pushing your body past its limits ought to be tagged. 
> 
> Title taken from Apart and Divided's "Fear Slows", a song I listened to a lot outlining this.

He sometimes felt a frustration with his body he couldn't express. 

It was nothing a doctor could fix - he was fairly healthy, and generally kept to a reasonable diet give or take his fondness for vanilla milkshakes. 

But he'd watch people taller than him, stronger than him, faster than him become gods on the court while he was benched. 

Some days he'd stay after practice, watch his fellow students walking out as he waited for the court to clear so he could start his extra practice. He envied them. The envy became alive at the sight of their strong calves, their effortlessly long arms, and their snap-quick reflexes. 

It curled his stomach. It gripped him with sharp teeth that snarled at his teammates. It sang a song that just became a drawn-out scream. 

_Do they have my drive?_ he wondered furiously as he fruitlessly shot balls against the backboard, each failure spiking his adrenaline with a simmering, then boiling rage. The sounds of basketballs swooshing through the hoop haunted him as much as they evaded him. _Do they even know what it's like to try so hard? Has it ever been hard for them? _

He knows they have. He's heard their frustrated swears when they fumbled a ball or slumped to ground after a particularly exhausting game. But this poison called envy snaked through his veins. It told him he had to make up for the handful of centimeters that set him apart, from the muscle mass he didn't have, all of these things he desperately wanted. It curled up within him when he did extra laps well after the coach had called for them to take a break. 

It didn't help when he was passed over before anyone even spoke to him and felt his drive. They always went for the bigger, stronger ones, even though his passion burned strong than some of those who were on the court. 

He was tired of it. Angry. And the one thing he could control he did.

_No breaks. No breaks. _

_\----_

His ambition and his body had been at odds. He knew this, he knew that envy battled the constant in his life that was his body, something he would always have with him, until that (hopefully distant) future day when soul and body would depart from each other. 

Mismatched ambition and body, he felt, was a tragedy rarely spoken about. He tried to breach the topic with Akashi-kun once, someone else who lacked the physical stature that his other teammates possessed, but he simply said, "I bend my body to my ambition. There is no conflict." 

For the first time, the envy in Kuroko's stomach stilled. He didn't want to bend his body against its will. That sounded so... unkind, when put into those words. 

"I see," said Kuroko as he nodded, and then backed away as Akashi focused his attention elsewhere. 

That night, at practice, when he noticed a blister, he did not push through it. He took the five minutes out of practice to find a band-aid in the first-aid kit, apply the antibacterial gel, and give it a slight rest before heading back out to court. 

It was small but he hoped that his body appreciated it. _How does one begin to apologize to their own body_, he wondered? 

\---

Eventually, something had to break.

"Kuroko-kun, we're worried about you," said his mother one night after dinner as he was washing dishes with her. "I know your grades are fine, but you are putting so much into your basketball club." She reached over and gently touched his hand. "I've seen you limping after you've come home from practice. I'm having you only do practices your coach's schedule - no late nights for two weeks. We can talk after then."

"Yes, Mother," he said as envy thrashed at his insides, claws outstretched to grab at the two weeks of extra practice he would have to miss. He had been doing smaller things to be kinder to his body, but he refused to give up the extra practices.

"Come along with me - I've been doing walks with your aunt Michiko in the evenings. Perhaps you could join us after your practice, and give her some of your youthful energy." She smiled softly at him, but it did not mask the concern in her eyes. 

He dutifully nodded and finished drying a plate. 

The first few days, while his elderly aunt filled them in on some of the drama in her sewing group, Kuroko faded off to the side, lost in his thoughts. He was going through the motions in his mind of practicing, thinking of basketball techniques. It wasn't until the fourth day that he was suddenly pulled back into reality.

"Ah!" cried Michiko, stumbling, but catching herself on her cane. "Oh dear, I do believe I missed that stick on the ground there. Kuroko-kun, be a sweetheart and remove that so some other old woman with bad knees doesn't almost fall."

He did so as his mother fussed over Michiko, but the elderly woman brushed off her sister. "Oh stop that, I'm fine. She takes care of me, you know, and I do my best back."

"I don't understand," said Kuroko. "She?" 

Michiko laughed lightly as they continued on the path. The setting sun cast a warm orange glow over the apartments they passed. 

"She doesn't always work, my body," said the old woman kindly, patting her knees. "But she tries her best, doesn't she? I can't fault her for when something doesn't work. The body wants to do its best, she knows she must, and she tries, but I can't help but accept what happens. And I do my best for her too." 

He fell silent as she swiftly changed the topic back to the sewing club, and as fascinating as the broken engagement of one of her sewing mate's daughters was, he could not stop Michiko's words from repeating in his mind. 

He had never considered giving his body credit. It simply was there. It functioned as such. It was there to serve him, his mind. 

On a biological level, it was meant to survive. All of his cells, the nervous system, his organs, their functioning was always set to maximum efficiency to try to make sure he was alive. And any failure on their part was simply falling short, but not due to ill will. A body could not have ill will. It simply was. How could he resent it for only doing what it could with what it was given? 

The balance between ambition and body was not meant to be a war. It was meant to be a negotiation. A discussion. A give and take. 

How long had he been waging a war against an opponent who was on his side?

During his break from extra practices, he noticed he felt less tense, less calculating. His body fell asleep better because his brain wasn't punishing him for missing the shots he tried. The envy was still there (it was always there) but it had quieted some. His shin splints lessened, and his hands ached less. He had not noticed the toll the extra practices had placed on him until his body was given the chance to breathe. 

After two weeks of walking with his mother and aunt Michiko, he was given the blessing to return to his late-night practices. He already knew he'd be doing less, but would wait to tell her until he had really stuck to it. His ambition, as he knew, often overrode his needs. He, after all, was not at peace with his body yet. 

"Just be careful with your body- you've only got the one, you know," she said as she gave him the go-ahead. 

"I will, Mother," he said, and meant it. 

-

"Kagami-kun, may I ask you a personal question about basketball?" asked Kuroko as they leaned against the side of the 7-11, sharing snacks after a late practice.

"_Shoot_," said Kagami in English, and then laughed. "Oh man. If only Izuki were here. That'd be a good one."

Kuroko assumed that as an affirmative and continued on. "Have you ever felt... at odds with your body? Perhaps frustrated with its limitations?" 

Kagami frowned and looked at his mochi snack. "Hm. Let me think. I guess there was the time when Himuro's voice started to crack before mine. I got really pissed and we had a stupid little fight over how he was a man before I was. But then I got my first chest hair a week later and it didn't really matter anyway."

Kuroko blinked, taking this information in, and then said, "Perhaps I will phrase it like this. Have you ever felt like you were angry at your body? That it could be better and you could win more at basketball?"

His light shrugged. "I mean, sure, I'd love superpowers that could make me, like, teleport across the court, but those aren't real. I got what I got and I work with it. Sure, it's annoying I'm human and have to sleep and stuff but I'm an athlete, my body is my tool. It's not like I can get another one or anything."

Kuroko thoughtfully bit off a piece of his mochi and let his light continue speaking.

"It'd be cool to have Murasakibara's height, or Aomine's speed, but, the only thing I can work with and change is how often I practice and find out what potential is there. Not like I can magically make myself centimeters taller or something. It's not worth a bunch of training that breaks your body because you're trying to force it to do something it can't. You just have to work with what you can and not push it too hard. Find another path but still get to where you want to go. I've seen what injuries do to players, and yeah I've been stupid once or twice and gotten real close to fucking up myself in the pursuit of a goal. But it's not worth it in the end, where there are more battles to fight."

Kuroko remained quiet for a moment and then said, "Thank you, Kagami-kun."

Kagami looked at Kuroko. "You okay?"

Kuroko had not truly spoken to anyone before about this, but he supposed if anyone should know, it would be his basketball partner. "I have... often struggled with my desire to succeed at basketball and what feels like my body stopping me from achieving my goals. That perhaps I would not have to struggle, work so hard, to achieve with others achieve effortlessly, if my body simply were better."

Kagami made a noise of assent but motioned with his hand to keep going. Emboldened, Kuroko continued.

"I suppose I did not treat my body with what it needed. It was not terrible, and I never truly injured myself grievously, but I felt resentful at it. I overworked it. But this anger... this envy, it made it impossible to truly succeed as I was trying to break what I have been given at birth. I have gotten better - but I have not completely come to peace with my body and its limitations. I am not sure if I ever will."

There was silence for a moment and then Kagami said, "I know I can't relate, but I can tell you I can't imagine a better shadow for me. We're going to be the best in Japan, and it'll be with Kuroko and the body he's got now." He frowned. "That sounded weird. But you know what I meant, right?"

Kuroko lightly laughed. "Yes, Kagami-san. I do understand."

They stand there for a few more minutes, chatting idly as the night sky darkens. Kuroko feels sleepy after practice, but good.

He returns home to his bed, slips off his shoes at the door, and feels the gentle ache in his feet from after practice. He's aware of the tightness in his shoulders, and the stickiness of sweat that's irritating the collar of his shirt. Before, he might have ignored these things but he's working on being more aware, giving in. It's give and take. 

_I'll get to you in a minute, don't worry_, he thinks, almost like he's conversing with his body. _I'll take care of you. Okay? _

He sleeps well that night. The envy sleeps inside of him, but is no longer in charge. Kuroko is, and his body, with that knowledge, slumbers on. 


End file.
